Dumfries (64 page)

  “Do they belong to you?” the barman jist starting his shift asked Simon, nodding tae the racket up at the far end ae the bar ae The Shore Inn.

  “Aye, Ah’m afraid so.  Look, don’t worry, Ah’ll get them tae shut up and sit doon when they finish killing this song, mate,” Simon apologised, wincing as the lassies continued tae dice wae death. 

  They wur aw staunin up, balancing oan tap ae wobbling bar stools, flashing their arses in their miniskirts, threatening tae spill their drinks everywhere fae the glasses they wur using as microphones as they continued tae murder ‘When Will Ah See Ye Again,’ which wis blasting oot ae the jukebox o’er in the corner.

  “No, no, laddie, you’ve picked me up wrong.  The fitba laddies at the bottom of the bar are asking if you would mind if they bought the girls a drink?”

  “Bit, Ah thought they awready hid a few roonds oan the tap?”

  “They do.”

  “Ach, ye better jist add the roond oan tae the rest then, mate.  It looks as if Ah’m gonnae be here a while.  If they found oot that Ah wis knocking back free drinks oan their behauf, they’d hiv ma guts fur garters, so they wid.  And Ah’ll hiv a fresh orange juice while ye’re at it,” Simon said tae the smiling barman, missing a heartbeat as Aggie nearly toppled o’er, only tae be saved by Frances pulling her back tae a staunin position by her bra strap.

  “Look, it seems tae me that we need tae separate the two main issues here,” Tony said tae them.

  “Johnboy’s corroborated evidence and Senga’s situation,” Snappy said.

  “Fuck…” Johnboy cursed.

  “Look, Johnboy, it’s goat tae be done.  We’re wasting time here by skirting roond the field.  Ah need tae be able tae gie Simon clear instructions oan whit tae dae next.  Ye’ll also hiv tae get Senga tae play her part as well.  We know it isnae easy, bit we’ve goat tae be honest wae each other and try and salvage as much as we kin before Wan-bob…er…if things dae go pear-shaped,” Tony said, coughing, as aw eyes focused oan Johnboy again.

  “It’s awright fur you tae say that.”

  “Senga’s oor pal tae, Johnboy,” Snappy reminded him, jumping in.

  “Ye kin either sit there and put in yer tuppence worth and accept the reality ae the situation or ye kin leave us tae it and we’ll sort things oot as best as we kin.  It’s your call, Johnboy,” Tony said, challenging him, his voice hardening, as he stared him straight in the eye.

  “Ye don’t think Ah’m gonnae leave Senga’s life in aw your bloody useless hauns, dae ye?” Johnboy retorted, sounding pitiful, as everywan nodded wae relief.

  “Good.  Noo, where wis Ah?” Tony asked, looking aboot.

  “Wis any ae whit Haufwit said written doon, Tony?” Pat asked, changing the direction ae the discussion.

  “Ah asked Simon, bit he’s no sure.”

  “Senga said that her flatmate clocked The Stalker taking doon everything in a wee black book.”

  “Yes!” Snappy exclaimed, clenching his fist.

  “Typical bizzy…cannae fucking remember a thing,” Tony scowled, raising the first smiles oot ae any ae them since they’d arrived doon fae their cells tae the rec room earlier.

  “So, we know he’s goat whit Haufwit said written doon.  How secure dae ye think that wee black book is then?” Johnboy asked, looking aboot and no expecting a straight answer.

  “It wid aw depend oan whether Wan-bob feels comfortable that he’s covered o’er aw the loose ends left in the wake ae Wee Eck’s confessional session wae Haufwit.  If he believes that he’s done away wae any threat, then The Stalker’s link tae Wan-bob via whit Haufwit said is worthless.  Mind you, getting oor hauns oan that wee black book could dae us a lot ae favours.”

  “It wid strengthen ma case if a witness, even if he wis deid, hid gied a statement tae an inspector, who’d written it doon, saying that Ah wisnae in the bank that day,” Johnboy added.

  “Aye, bit that same witness also claimed that ye shot Shaun Murphy, whose body his never turned up,” Snappy reminded him.

  “Everywan knows where Johnboy wis the last time Shaun wis seen alive.  That’s the easy part,” Tony said thoughtfully tae nowan in particular, rubbing his chin.

  “So, where’s the other piece ae corroborative evidence coming fae regarding the bank?  The Stalker’s written statement fae Haufwit is useless unless we kin come up wae something jist as strong,” Pat said, deciding tae remind them ae the obvious.

  “Aye, well, we’re noo getting doon tae the nitty-gritty.  The only person that kin help us wae that is Wan-bob,” Tony reminded them grimly.

  “So, why don’t ye get Simon tae deal wae that end then?” Pat asked.

  “Because even though it’s obvious tae us, we don’t really know fur a fact how much Wan-bob really knows aboot the fuck-up wae the nurse, so we widnae want tae alert him tae something he disnae awready know aboot,” Johnboy replied.

  “And the chances ur that Simon and the others wid cop it as well.  Wan-bob won’t fuck aboot, weighing up the pros and cons.  He’ll act first tae protect himsel and The Big Man’s interests and then take anywan else in tae consideration later.”

  “Ah think we need tae try and collect as much evidence oan ma innocence as a priority meantime, and deal wae Wan-bob’s moves when the time comes.  That wid be your job, Tony,” Johnboy said, a pained expression crossing his coupon.

  “That could mean hivving tae wait up tae eight months, until May ae next year, when we’re oot,” Tony warned Johnboy, leaving unsaid whit the implications could be. “Senga and that flatmate ae hers wid require a helluva lot ae luck fur this wan tae run its course.”

  “Well, whit choice dae we hiv?”

  “If Ah goat parole, Ah could dae it,” Pat volunteered, even getting a smile fae Johnboy oan that wan.

  “Pat, ye’ve as much chance ae getting parole as Ah hiv ae getting ma hole the night,” Snappy scornfully hooted, as everywan burst oot laughing, easing the tension amongst them further.

  “Ach, you fuckers…jist wait and see.  Ah’ll be swanning aboot, living the life ae a free man, while youse ur still in here bashing yer bishops while Ah’ll be gieing it tae Paula in stereo,” Pat retorted.

  “So, whit’s Simon’s thoughts oan aw this, Tony?” Johnboy asked, bringing everywan back tae the subject in haun.

  “As I’ve said, he cannae believe that Wan-bob fucked up. He wis clearly glad tae haun the responsibility back tae us doon here oan whit the next move should be.  He also cannae believe that The Stalker won’t find oot that they’ve goat the wrang nurse, in which case, the chances ae Wan-bob no finding oot sooner or later ur slim.”

  “Aye, that wid be ma thinking as well,” Johnboy grimaced. “The bloody problem is that we’re aw stuck doon here,” Johnboy cursed, looking aboot the rec room.

  Silence.

  “Look, Simon is the best wan tae be oan tap ae this.  Ah don’t mean tae sound disrespectful or anything, bit oot ae us aw, he’s the wan Ah wid want tae be dealing wae this ootside.  We’ve awready accepted that things ur no looking good fur Senga and her flatmate and difficult though it is, let’s leave that tae the wan side fur later.  Whit is it that we hiv tae come up wae the night, before Ah talk tae Simon and Johnboy speaks tae Senga the morra?”

  “Ah’m feeling right giddy, so Ah am,” Senga admitted, giggling, as Fanny haunded Alison another bottle ae wine tae open and she threw another couple ae logs oan tae the fire, causing an explosion ae sparks.  “Ah love sitting in front ae a log fire.  It’s the smell.  By the way, ye’re looking great, Alison.  Everything must’ve turned oot okay noo that ye’re back wae that governor man ae yers?”

  “I miss him.  That may seem strange, but I can’t help it,” the pad confessed, as Alison let oot a sob.

Senga stood up, a wee bit wobbly oan they feet ae hers, and went across tae the other couch and put her erms roond Alison.

  “Alison, nowan could ever question yer love fur Tam Simpson, bit at least ye goat reconciled wae yer kids.  Unfortunately, we cannae bring back the dead.  That part ae yer life is aw in the past,” Senga soothed, as Alison sobbed intae her shoulder.

  “I know I’m being stupid,” Alison managed tae scribble across the tear drops awready soaking in tae the page ae her pad, while struggling tae keep her composure intact.

  “Ah widnae say ye wur stupid.  Stupid’s loving somewan who disnae love ye back, like me and Johnboy Taylor, fur instance…that’s stupid,” Senga declared sheepishly, looking across at Fanny, who’d also started bubbling.

  “After all these years, I still feel trapped without any future in a loveless marriage,” the pad confessed, fae in amongst mair teardrops that hid landed while Alison wis writing.

  “Alison, don’t greet.  There’s always hope.  Christ, look at me?  Ah’ve been hoping aw ma life and Ah’m still here, hinging oan, wondering if whit Ah’m efter is suddenly gonnae jump oot at me and bite me oan that bum ae mine when Ah’m no looking.  Look at Fanny and whit she’s goat gaun fur hersel wae that man and lovely wean ae hers.  We’ll aw hiv that someday…don’t ye worry aboot that.  Is that no right, Fanny?” Senga asked, looking fur a bit ae support and encouragement.

  “Ah’m sorry,” Fanny sobbed, hauf smiling, hauf greeting, and waving her haun in front ae her face, tears flowing doon baith cheeks.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself,” the pad continued, as Alison held it up fur Fanny tae see whit she’d written, while still fighting tae contain her sobs.

  “Oh, don’t be, Alison, this isn’t to do with what you’ve just said.  It’s me…and…Jardine…he’s, he’s given me until Sunday night when he comes back with Jake to choose between him and my job.  He says he can’t cope whilst I’m working where I am anymore,” Fanny choked, sobbing, as baith Alison and Senga shot across tae the couch tae comfort her.

  “Ye don’t think this his goat anything tae dae wae aw this lovely wine we’re skoofing, like it’s gaun oot ae style and the music in that tape deck that’s playing, dae ye?” Senga wondered oot loud, as Leonard Cohen laughed, cried and laughed aboot it aw again, efter saying so long tae Marianne.

  “Look, girls, Ah don’t want tae be cheeky here, bit there’s no way Cocky Miller is gonnae allow a bunch ae wee beautiful looking dolly birds tae buy him a drink.  So, whit will youse be having…a wee hauf pint ae lager and lime or a wee shandy, is it?  The same again, Rabbie, and gie me whit the girls ur hivving,” Cocky Miller slurred, grabbing the bar tae steady himsel, ogling Aggie McCoy’s big bosoms that wur jist aboot tae spill oot ae that blouse ae hers.

“Er, Simon?  Is that you? How ur ye daeing?” a voice asked him, as the lassies began another Tequila slammer session oan the bar in The Bard’s Big Bugle, at the expense ae some auld sleazy guy sporting a gold silk cravat wae a diamond pin in the middle ae it, that hid tagged oan tae them in the bar an hour earlier.

  “Er, aye, fine.  Sorry, bit dae Ah know ye?”

  “Aye, we met when Ah wis up staying in Glesga fur three months last year.  Ah’m John Paul Jerome, the bookie fae Maryhill’s nephew, Jizz.  Dae ye no remember me?” he asked, haudin oot his haun. “Tony intervened efter some big fat basturt punched me oan the mooth in a pub, when Ah wis up in Glesga visiting ma uncle.”

  “Ach, of course Ah dae.  How ur ye daeing, wee man?”

  “Fine, fine…Ah’ve been allowed oot the night.  Lochmaben United won the cup the day, so me and the team ur aw oot celebrating,” he explained, nodding tae the crowd at the far end ae the bar.  “So, ur ye doon visiting Tony?”

  “Aye.  We’ve goat another visit the morra and then it’s back up the road.  So, whit else ur ye up tae these days when ye’re no winning cups?” Simon asked him, as the auld guy wae the cravat shouted fur another line ae tequilas tae be lined up.

  “Me and ma da run a wee garage jist ootside Lochmaben.  It’s nothing much, bit we’ve always goat a waiting list fur an MOT and anything else that needs fixing, if ye know whit Ah mean,” Jizz said, tapping that nose ae his wae an oil-ingrained finger.  “Look Simon, we’re jist aboot tae move oan.  Kin ye gie ma regards tae Tony fur me?  Ah’ll always remember that he sorted oot that wee problem fur me when Ah first arrived in the toon.  Tell him if there’s anything Ah kin dae fur him, he’s jist tae send a letter tae The Lochmaben Garage.  The posties aw know where we ur.  If he’s efter any books or magazines, Ah’ll get them sent in tae him.”

  “Aye, thanks, Jizz.  Ah’ll pass oan the message,” Simon said, as the lassies screamed fur the barman tae line up another line ae tequila shots.

  The poor basturt wae the cravat lay slumped oan the flair in the corner, looking as if he’d pished his troosers, jist tae the left ae where the lassies hid been sitting earlier.

Jizz burst oot laughing at Simon’s pained expression, as he heided back tae his fitba mates at the far end ae the bar.

  “I love your trousers, Senga.  Where did you get them?” Fanny asked, feeling the material oan the bottom ae Senga’s trooser leg.

  “Oh, these?  They’re American and made by a designer called Bobbie Brooks. Ah goat them discounted oot ae DIRTY JAKE’S BOUTIQUE doon in Buchanan Street.  Wan ae ma…oor…best friends, Jake McAlpine owns it.  It’s a really smart, upmarket shoap and attracts aw ae Glesga’s so-called beautiful people…the young toffs wae aw the dosh, as they say. He only deals in exclusive American designers like Bill Blass, Bobbie Brooks, Victor Joris, who’s a designer fur the Cuddle Coat Company, Evan-Picone, Halston, Ralph Lauren, Marie St John, Diane Von Furstenburg, Norman and Max Raab, who run The Villager Company.  If yer taste is mair European, then he stocks Celine, Emanuel Ungaro, Givenchy, Armani, Gucci, Karl Lagerfeld, Westwood, Valentino and Versace, tae name a few.  Christ,
Ah couldnae afford tae buy a pair ae tights in there, let alone a pair ae troosers, wae the wages Ah’m oan.  Even though Ah hivnae been part ae the Springburn crowd socially fur ages noo, Jake never forgets a friend, especially us lassies.  Mind you, he’s pretty shrewd.  He knows if he gies away cool stuff, it’s like hivving a walking advert.  It wid amaze ye the amount ae people who’ve stoapped me and the other lassies in the toon centre, asking where we goat oor gear fae.”

  “They’re beautiful,” Fanny said, stroking them.

  “Well, ye kin hiv them, although, ye’ll need tae wait until the morra.  There’s no way Ah’m heiding back tae that hotel in ma, wait fur it…John Kloss knickers,” Senga said, emphasising the designer’s name and putting oan a posh accent, as they aw burst oot laughing.

  “Oh, I couldn’t for one moment accept them,” Fanny protested.

  “Why?”

  “They’re just too gorgeous.  I would be scared to wear them, in case I spilled wine on them.  And anyway, we don’t go anywhere where they would be appreciated.”

  “Fanny, ye don’t need tae go anywhere.  Jist wearing something that’s been beautifully constructed by haun by a craftsmen fur us wummin is enough, especially when ye cannae afford them.  It’s like getting yer hair done.”

  “Well, maybe someday, but C & A’s will have to do for now,” Fanny sighed, smiling.

  “Ah never did get roond tae telling youse why Ah came doon tae visit the man who’s never loved me, or should Ah say, the boy who’s never kissed me, so disnae know whit he’s missing,” Senga said tae them, voice slurring, haudin oot her glass fur Fanny tae top it up.

  “You don’t have to, Senga,” the pad advised, although it wis obvious that Alison and Senga wur interested.

  “Naw, naw, it’s okay.  It sounds as if we’re aw oan the same wavelength, or in the same leaky ship, depending oan which way ye want tae look at it, and Ah know it’ll be kept within these four walls,” Senga replied, looking o’er the rim ae her glass at them.  “A few weeks ago, Ah learned that he wis innocent, so Ah did.”

  “Who?  Johnboy?  Johnboy Taylor’s innocent?” Fanny exclaimed, astonished, looking across at Alison before putting doon her glass.

  “Noo, Ah know whit ye’re thinking…they aw say that…bit Ah hiv irre…irre…irrefutable evidence that he’s as innocent as anywan in this room.  Ma mission, if ye could call it that, wis tae come doon here and tell him tae his face,” Senga slurred.  “God, Ah’m so drunk, so Ah am.”

  “How?” the pad asked.

  “Well, it’s a long story and Ah don’t really want tae go intae or o’er aw the fine details other than tae say that ma flatmate, Lizzie, who’s also a nurse, overheard a dying man…sort ae a gangster type…make a deathbed confession that included saying Johnboy wisnae in the bank the day the two polis wur shot.  So, there ye go…whit dae ye baith think ae that wan?”

  “He actually mentioned Johnboy by name?” the pad asked.

  “Johnboy Taylor wisnae in the bank the day they two polis wur shot.  That wis his exact words…gie or take a word here or there…bit whitever, ‘Johnboy Taylor’ and ‘no being in the bank when the polis wur shot’ wis good enough fur me,” Senga slurred, hiccupping, as she took a sip ae her wine.

  “Oh Senga, that’s wonderful.  He must have been delighted that you were able to tell him,” Fanny cooed, clapping her hauns and nearly sliding aff the couch oan tae that arse ae hers wae drunken excitement, as she beamed across at Alison.

  “Who did he…the patient…gangster…confess to, Senga?” Alison asked, scribbling furiously, despite visibly swaying.

  “It’s funny ye should ask me that, Alison, bit it wis tae none other than that Stalker wan, the wan who always gets his man.  Christ, that sounds like a line fae a country and western tune, so it dis,” Senga said, smiling, surprised at her poetic talent.  “Ah wis never that good at poetry in school either, so Ah wisnae.”

  “Has he reported this to his superiors?” Fanny enquired.

  “Fanny, Fanny, ye hivnae been listening tae a word Ah’ve been saying, hiv ye?  It wis The Stalker.  Why wid somewan like him go and dae something as decent as that fur?  He cannae staun any ae The Mankys.  He isnae gonnae dae Johnboy Taylor any favours.  As far as he’s concerned, he’s jist another thug aff ae the streets.”

  “But surely he has a duty and an obligation to report something as serious as this to the appropriate authorities?” Fanny persisted, looking at Senga and Alison, an enquiring look oan her face, wondering why they’d laughingly scoffed at whit she’d jist come oot wae.

  “So, what was Johnboy’s reaction?” the pad asked, getting tae the heart ae Senga’s confession.

  “Dae Y’know whit, Alison?  Ah hivnae goat a bloody clue.  Ah’ve been kicking masel since Ah saw him this efternoon.  Here’s him sitting there aw bleary-eyed, looking as if he’s jist been let oot ae some bloody dungeon, aw innocent looking and Ah’m sitting there, like Lady Godiva, raving like some banshee because it never happened tae enter his heid tae apologise fur aw the hurt he clearly disnae know he’s inflicted oan me o’er the years.  Ah cannae believe the cow Ah’ve turned oot tae be,” Senga whimpered, the curse ae The Drunken Guilt Trip raising its ugly heid gleefully.

  “Oh, Senga, it’s been a long day…I’m sure he understands,” Fanny cooed soothingly, taking Senga’s haun in hers.

  “So, if he wasn’t in the bank, where was he?” The pad asked.

  “That’s wan ae the questions that’s been gaun aroond in ma heid since this efternoon.  It’s the obvious question tae ask, bit he wis too busy noising me up, asking aboot ma current boyfriend, Rory, that Ah totally furgoat tae ask him.  He actually hid the cheek tae ask me when Ah wis getting married and when Ah telt him Ah wisnae, he then asked if Ah wis pregnant, wid ye believe?  Is that no a good way tae throw somewan aff the scent that’s come aw this way wae good news?  Whit dae youse think?” Senga asked them, hiccupping, covering her mooth wae her haun, a frown appearing oan her foreheid.

  “It sounds to me as if he’s still got lot of feelings for you, Senga,” the pad replied.

  “Dae ye think so?  So, aw that baloney aboot whether Ah wis pregnant or getting married wis jist his subtle way ae making a pass at me?  And they say the art ae dancing the auld fandango is deid and buried in Glesga?  Well, they’ve obviously goat that wan wrang, so they hiv,” Senga said tae smiles, as she raised her erms and did a wee dance wae imaginary castanets, clacking between her fingers. “Well, it wis quite clear he wis aware ae Rory, or auld Gory, as he called him…ma boyfriend.  He actually hid the cheek tae ask me why the hell a nurse like me wid go oot wae a doctor called Gory and that Ah should think ae the kids, wid ye believe?” Senga shouted oot, as they aw burst intae fits ae giggles.  “Ah must admit, even though Ah wis so angry towards him, Ah hid tae smile.”

  “I shouldn’t laugh, but I can just hear his dry, deadpan voice say that to you,” Fanny agreed, smiling.

  “Aye, he’s goat a good sense ae humour…they aw hiv, even if it is jist a wee bit oan the sick side.  Ah wis actually dreading meeting him face tae face.  Jist efter he wis sentenced, Ah sent him a letter telling him that Ah wis moving oan wae ma life and that Ah widnae be writing back tae him.”

  “The YOs call that a Dear John,” Fanny informed her.

  “Aye, Ah know, bit Ah thought a Dear John wis if ye wur actually intimately involved wae somewan.  Christ, Ah’ve barely held his haun, never mind been oan the receiving end ae a kiss or a cuddle.  Ah still feel terrible aboot it though, especially noo Ah know he’s innocent.  Loyalty means everything tae them.”

  “He’s serving fourteen years for a serious crime, Senga.  He was found guilty by a jury, after all.  It’s understandable for you to have believed he was guilty,” Fanny said reassuringly.

  “Aye, Ah know, bit he swore oan his mother’s grave tae me that he wis innocent when Ah went up tae visit him while he wis oan remand in Barlinnie and Ah still didnae believe him.  Ah still feel like a right shit, so Ah dae.”

  “So, what happens now?” the pad asked.

  “Ah’m no sure.  He said he’d talk tae me the morra as he needed time tae reflect oan whit Ah’d telt him.”

  “I mean concerning you and him,” the pad asked, as Alison tilted her heid, searching fur a reply, haudin up the pad towards her.  “Fourteen years is a long time.”

  “Ah don’t know, Alison…Ah jist don’t.  I always believed that the baith ae us wid end up thegither.  This probably won’t make sense tae somewan like yersel, living doon here, Fanny, bit being a wummin, working and living in a city like Glesga, even in 1974, kin be a very scary experience.  Violence against wummin is so endemic.  I used tae think it wis because Ah wis being exposed tae it daily, working in casualty, bit it’s mair than that.  Everywhere ye go, the newspapers, the news, music, comedians, the jokes they come oot wae that everywan finds funny, aw perpetuate the myth that wummin…us…are somehow second class citizens…refugees in oor ain skin.  And it’s no only me that thinks like that either.  Ah come across lots ae wummin who ur jist as scared ae whit’s oot there.  Even gaun oot wae Rory, lovely though he is, Ah jist don’t feel safe.  Ah hidnae realised it before noo, bit as soon as Ah sat doon opposite Johnboy, Ah felt safe fur the first time in years.  It wisnae because he wis the type ae person who wid staun up physically tae somewan who’d dae me herm…which he wid…bit…it wis because Ah knew that if Ah could get a commitment, an acknowledgement, that perhaps he felt the same aboot me, as Ah’ve always felt aboot him, then Ah wid hiv nothing tae fear bit fear itsel,” Senga said, trying, bit failing tae keep the bitterness fae her voice. “Look, Ah know that disnae make sense, bit there ye go…”

  “Senga, I said it back when I was your patient in The Royal, and I’ll say it again.  Whoever you love will be the luckiest man in the world,” The pad said supportively.

  “Aye, well, try telling somewan like Johnboy Taylor that.”